A carpet was the topic of an inspired conversation this week. It lies on my living room floor (above) and sometimes visitors will pause and stare into the thing. It is a curious creation that emits a strange power. This carpet, or Gabbeh to be more precise, is of an indeterminate age and originally harks from an Iranian village. I know this because I found a little piece of material sewn onto the back of the thing that explained it so.

The carpet found me ten years ago. It materialized one rainy afternoon with a boyfriend who, soon after meeting me, decided to move back to the States. He proceeded to offload most of his possessions into my brand new flat in Soho, Hong Kong - and this delightful item was amid the second elevator-load.

Over the years since, I have grown to love this carpet and it has loved me back. It has followed me through several new homes, and then was curled up and placed in a container and sailed all the way from the South China Sea to Boston, and then in a truck up to Maine where it now lives in a 100-year old house in the West End of Portland. It provides soft relief to the feet of both myself and my husband... and it provides entertainment. We have spent hours sitting and looking at the wierd elements to this piece of art. Some curious mistakes that have made their way into the weaving, such as headless men (below) and three-legged camels.

We decided it must have been some kind of training carpet.

But then, the other day I was on Skype and talking to my aunt, Anna O'Higgins, a wonderfully-inspired artist who lives in an ancient house on the island of Anglesey in North Wales and makes art from silk and glass.

Her eyes were lingering on the screen, staring somewhere beyond me until she cried out, 'Oooh, love the rug!' I commenced to explain the wierd qualities of this carpet, and she corrected me. 'No, the mistakes are meant to be there,' she assured me. 'Islamic art cannot be perfect, only Allah is perfect. So artists will add the mistakes.' She adds with a laugh, 'It's a philosophy I've been using myself lately.'

At this point in the conversation, some kind of light bulb illuminates my mind. Or perhaps a better explanation would be to say that a gate swings open and an exotic wild animal (maybe some kind of fantastical peacock) comes hurtling out and runs down the hillside of my consciousness. Something quite literally shifts in me and releases its energy.

The following day, I sit down with all my notebooks and start to really work on my book of stories, for the first time in months. I feel released, unshackled. You see, I've been keeping this wild animal, my muse, in a small cage of late. I've been visiting her with cups of tea every few days and informing her that she needs to be perfect. But with every visit, I have become increasingly exasperated to see her standing limply in the corner, unwilling to move.

Something about that line, about an artist purposefully injecting a mistake into her art... it clicked that gate wide open and set something free. What a relief, to not need to be perfect. It made me think of Leonard Cohen's 'Anthem':

Ring the bells that still can ring Forget your perfect offering There is a crack in everythingThat's how the light gets in...

Perhaps it's that glint of imperfection that is actually the route in.

Clare, what an inspiring and wonderfully written post! I couldn't agree more that being allowed to be imperfect inspires creativity in me. If I had to take a "perfect" photograph every time, I wouldn't have many pictures!

Reply

Clare

6/19/2012 05:39:09 am

Thank you Cindy! I have to keep reminding myself that it is a journey and to not listen to the critic! I remember my teacher in Hong Kong, Tonglam, told me how the critic mind in the creative process is a delusion, a negative mind that is grasping strongly onto the self and is only about fear. It does us no good, we just have to let go of it. I have to be CONSTANTLY reminded of this!!!

I often remind myself of the same thing, Clare. I just loved this post--it was really just what I needed to read this morning! Can't wait for meditation class tomorrow--it is usually just what I need too!

Nicky Evans

6/19/2012 02:27:39 am

I don't know if this is entirely relevant to what you're saying, but read this Clare - http://www.guardian.co.uk/lifeandstyle/2012/jun/15/happiness-is-being-a-loser-burkeman

Here's a quote:...it's our relentless effort to feel happy, or to achieve certain goals, that is precisely what makes us miserable and sabotages our plans. And that it is our constant quest to eliminate or to ignore the negative – insecurity, uncertainty, failure, sadness – that causes us to feel so insecure, anxious, uncertain or unhappy in the first place.

Reply

Clare

6/19/2012 05:32:43 am

What a great article! And how fitting! I just love it. It reminds me a lot of Buddhist teachings. I remember once being given a book called "Being No-one, Going Nowhere" and at the time I kind of threw it aside thinking, what a horrible thought.

But actually, this is the truth. We are inventing a lot of ideas about who we are. I really like the ending to the article which references Natalie Goldberg, who is a big inspiration to me and the writing life:

"But, as the Zen-influenced writer Natalie Goldberg argues, there is an openness and honesty in failure, a down-to-earth confrontation with reality that can seem lacking at the higher altitudes of success. Perfectionism is one of those traits that many people seem secretly, or not-so-secretly, proud to possess, since it hardly seems like a character flaw. Yet, at bottom, it is a fear-driven striving to avoid the experience of failure at all costs. At the extremes, it is an exhausting and permanently stressful way to live: there is a greater correlation between perfectionism and suicide, researchers have found, than between feelings of hopelessness and suicide. To fully embrace the experience of failure, not merely to tolerate it as a stepping stone to glory, is to abandon this constant straining never to put a foot wrong – and to relax."

Reply

Your comment will be posted after it is approved.

Leave a Reply.

LADY LIB

My digital notebook in which I ponder the path to enlightenment and how it connects with daily life.